Customer Reviews

The Rebirth of Phuket

The Rebirth of Phuket

I wasnâ€'t far out from the beach â€" just
beyond the lightly rolling breakers. My feet had left the sandy bottom,
and amniotic water burbled around my shoulders. A sea eagle sailed
between me and the hot afternoon sun. The starburst tops of a coconut
grove delineated the beach. An arc of sugar, it stretched away to a
cluster of rounded rocks and, beyond, a rise of greenery leading into
the tufted mountains of a national park.

I was floating in the
Andaman Sea at Khao Lak, in Thailandâ€'s southwest. A paradise of
mangroves, tropical islands and emerald coves set in electric-blue
waters, the Andaman Coast is one of the worldâ€'s best-known beach
destinations. It includes the island province of Phuket, the
spectacular small island Ko Phi Phi, hopping Rai Le Beach and more
sedate Khao Lak. Its vacation options range from some of the most luxe
accommodations on the planet, through unassuming hotels priced for the
modest budgets of middle-class European and Asian families, to pristine
natural areas accessible only to those willing to rough it. The area is
legendary for its lush coral reefs and caves and the green-shrouded
sugar-loaf rocks rising from the sea in Phang Nga Bay.

But the
softly humid breezes of the Andaman Coast also carry an echo of menace.
At the end of 2004, this beach at Khao Lak was littered with bodies and
debris. Horrific, indelible scenes that spread around the world almost
as fast as what had caused them, the great tsunami. All told, the
disaster killed a quarter-million people worldwide and more than 8,000
in Thailand â€" fishermen, villagers and more than 2,000 foreigners from
16 countries. The United Nations estimated that around 150,000 people
in Thailand lost their livelihoods in fishing and tourism that December
morning.

I visited this part of Thailand in October, just before
the start of the tourist season, with an eye toward assessing the
coastâ€'s recovery. What I found was a placid seaside with few signs of
the disaster. Instead, it had the expectant atmosphere that any popular
tourist area has just before the high season. The beach at Khao Lak was
empty, and few tourists were around, but the palm-shaded resorts were
spotless and occupied with preseason preparations. Everywhere I went on
the Andaman Coast I heard the rhythm of industrious hammers and smelled
fresh paint.

Statistics from the Tourism Authority of Thailand
support the impression of a full physical recovery for the tourist
business â€" and until political uncertainty and the current global
economic crisis sent visitor numbers plunging, an economic recovery as
well. Other than Khao Lak and Ko Phi Phi, which, respectively, lost 75
and 60 percent of their hotels, most of the Andaman Coast was spared
complete devastation. Hotels were refurbished and repaired, and after
visitors returned in large numbers in 2006, a vigorous building boom
began. In 2007 alone, Phuketâ€'s stock of hotel rooms climbed a tenth,
contributing to an 11 percent increase in visitors to the island, to
more than five million â€" more than in any year before the tsunami. In
2008, more new hotels went up. For travelers willing and able to spend
the money to get there, this coast is once again an inviting place to
stay.

The Khao Lak area, which suffered much of the Andaman
Coastâ€'s worst devastation, now features a low-key set of immaculate
resorts attracting families from around the world, especially Northern
Europe. Instead of boisterous night life like that in Patong, on Phuket
to the south, or stunning cliff faces like Rai Leâ€'s, to the east, Khao
Lakâ€'s charm is in its long serene beach at the foot of a range of
thickly forested mountains.

As the sun dipped magnificently
into the fiery Andaman Sea, I took a place at a split bamboo table by
the surf. I dug my toes into the warm sand like a ghost crab and washed
down an assertively seasoned green curry with a big bottle of hoppy
Chang Beer. Just as the sky turned inky, someone nearby launched a
candle-powered paper hot-air balloon. It rose steadily, eventually
taking its place as an orange star among the constellations.

THE
next day, behind the town, I found unmistakable evidence of the
tsunami. A small grassy park surrounds an incongruous police boat that
was washed there, a mile from the sea, by the wave. The boat had been
guarding a Thai prince who was killed in the disaster, and it became a
place of mourning and remembrance.

Certainly, everyone who
survived has vivid memories. My driver in Phuket, Marn, told me that 10
members of his family had died in the tsunami. But the forlorn boat,
and an abstract memorial sculpture nearby, seemed forgotten. A few
foreigners walked around the gray hulk in a warm drizzle, shaking their
heads.

If there is any grand physical monument to the disaster, it is the rebuilt coast itself.

â€œItâ€'s
back, stronger than it ever was pre-tsunami,â€ said Bill Heineke, an
owner of the Anantara hotel group, which got its start in northern
Thailand and now has nine resorts around Asia. Anantaraâ€'s hotel in Khao
Lak was destroyed by the tsunami, but in October the group opened a new
one on Phuket.

But the areaâ€'s economy is at the mercy of more
than the awesome forces of nature. Even as I strolled the beach, fresh
troubles were brewing. The global economic collapse has been a blow to
every region that depends on the disposable incomes of rich countries.
Meanwhile, domestic tensions have flared as Thailandâ€'s complex politics
works through a particularly intransigent period. Political
demonstrations in November closed both of Bangkokâ€'s airports for days,
stranding more than a third of a million travelers.